


The Flatmate

by mmmonky



Category: Dead by Daylight (Video Game)
Genre: F/M, Fluff and Angst, Fluff and Smut, M/M, Modern AU, Sad Ending, adding tags as I go
Language: English
Status: In-Progress
Published: 2020-07-09
Updated: 2020-07-24
Packaged: 2021-03-05 01:02:36
Rating: Teen And Up Audiences
Warnings: Creator Chose Not To Use Archive Warnings
Chapters: 5
Words: 6,170
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/25155940
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/mmmonky/pseuds/mmmonky
Summary: David King is 3 months behind on rent. His only solution, according to his landlord, is to get a flatmate. His rent relies on his new flatmate, Dwight Fairfield. Who knew that the forced set up would allow both them to fall in love with each other.
Relationships: Dwight Fairfield/David King, Dwight Fairfield/Jake Park
Comments: 14
Kudos: 84





	1. A Solution

**Author's Note:**

> Disclaimer: I do not own any of the main characters! They belong to Behaviour.
> 
> I apologize if there’s any errors beforehand. English is not my first language. I hope you all enjoy reading!

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> I am still trying to figure out how Ao3 works! Thank you for your patience.

**September 13, 2016 - 1:37 AM(Northern Quarter, Manchester, England)**

If there’s anything else in the world that David loves most, besides Freya Taylor, its a cool breeze that hits him after leaving Uncle Brass’s office with a handful of cash. Cash that he obviously won’t use to pay his rent. King is already three months behind on rent but he doesn’t care. His charms were enough to convince the old female landlord to let it slide. Compliments would always do the trick as well. That is until her grandson took over her apartments.

The new landlord never stops nagging David over his rent. It drives David insane to the point where he wants to brawl the guy right then and there. However, his temper is the reason why he is living the way he is now. King’s future would’ve been so different if he’d never assaulted that referee at all. Hell, he’d probably have a full-ride scholarship to college. But life is unexpected, at least that’s what Freya would tell him.

Now, he works for Uncle Brass as a debt collector. He got the job by fighting one of Uncle Brass’s strongest men, The Ghetto Masher. The fight was unintentional but one thing was for sure… he would do anything to protect the ones he loves. This didn’t include his parents though. All they ever wanted was to have the best image in all Manchester, maybe even the entire UK. Donnie is a different story. The lad may not be blood-related, but he is more family than his parents are to David. Thanks to Donnie, he wouldn’t know where he’d be.

Luckily, his boss’s office is nearby a liquor store, where he usually stops by to get ale on the way home. He’d also buy adult magazines whenever he feels lonely. Today just happens to be the day he’ll buy some again. David breathes heavily as he begins to stroll on his way to the liquor store.

During his stroll, he admired how beautiful Manchester is at night. There weren’t that many people on the streets. Traffic wasn’t as loaded as it was before during the day. The humming of the train echoed on the streets. The cool breeze continued to hit his face as he soon came to a complete stop when he approached his destination. King opened the door and hastily walked to the fridges located near the back of the liquor store. He collected a pack of ale and adult magazines from the racks near the checkout.

“Could it be?!” Quentin hollers at David, then rubs sleepless eyes just to ensure himself that it was the scrapper who walked inside the liquor store. “You’re still alive, Smoke!”

David chuckles in response, planting the magazines and ale on the counter. “Nice to see you too, mate.”

“Everyone’s been talking about your fight against Mither Monster! The guy is a giant compared to you! Yet you beat him!” Quentin excitedly said as he began to scan the items. David, after getting to know the teenager for a while, realized how Quentin is obsessed with fights and whatnot. He’s almost like his number one fan.

_'What nineteen year old wouldn’t like street fights?'_

“Oi, I told ye. A head’s a head, mate. It’s a man’s way of makin’ a livin’.” King waves it off upon seeing Quentin’s amazed expression. The scrapper scoops his wallet from his pocket. “Could ya also get me a box, please?”

Quentin nodded as he grabbed a box of cigarettes from the concealed counter behind him. “May I ask? How are you and Ms. Freya?” The cashier scanned the item and placed it inside the bag.

“We’re doing well, lad. She’s still busy down in London. Ye already know how the lass is with wantin’ to be part of showbiz.” David mutters collecting the bagged items. “That’s why I ‘ave these to help me get through the loneliness.” He clicks his tongue gesturing the bag containing the magazines.

The cashier lets out a laugh. “Smart thinking!” Suddenly, their conversation was cut short when another customer entered the store. “I hope to see you around then, Smoke!” The cashier beamed, handing the scrapper his receipt.

King nodded in response, he grabbed his receipt and exited the gas station. “Take care, mate!”

David pulled out a cancer stick from the box. He slipped out his lighter from his jacket and lit it. The scrapper let out small silver clouds as he continued to press the cigarette on his lips. ' _Bloody hell! I forgot about the building’s new policies.'_

King checked around to see if anyone was watching him. He quickly entered the building, hands cupping his lit cigarette up the stairs hoping he doesn’t run into the pesky landlord.

“Mr. King!” A deep loud voice hissed, at that moment, David stopped his tracks and slowly turned towards the voice. It was the pesky landlord. _'Bloody hell!'_

“I thought we were clear that you cannot smoke in the building.” The landlord emphasized, crossing both arms on his chest. King rolled his eyes as he attempted to put out the cigarette. “Anyways, my soul purpose was not to come and baby you... I just wanted to let you know that a lad dropped by and was interested in being your flatmate.”

“Come again?”

“You’ll be sharing your apartment with someone else!” the landlord exclaimed.

David scoffed in disbelief, “I never asked for one.”

“Well then, I suppose I can impede this from happening if you pay the three months of rent you owe.” the landlord threatened with a smirk on his face. David tried to control himself from punching the guy in the stomach.

Already angered to the brim, David crushed the unlit cigarette in his hand. “Fine then! Let the lad come over tomorrow.” David spat, wanting nothing more than for the git to leave him alone.

“Good. I’ll call you tomorrow when the lad arrives then. Have a great evening, Mr. King.”

With this, King annoyingly climbed up the stairs to his apartment. He fished his keys out of pocket and opened the door. The scraper tossed the adult magazines from his bag on the coffee table. David closed the door behind him and set the ale on the table in the dining room/kitchen.

He needed to shower, David reminded himself. The scrapper began to strip out of his clothes and stepped into the bathroom. Once he got in there, he turned the water checking to see if the temperature was just right. David felt the water patter all over his skin, it felt so refreshing as if a heavy weight was lifted from his shoulders. His fingers started to comb through his wet mullet. ' _It’s been a year. A year since I left that hellhole.'_

King remembers how his parents put their image before anything. This included him to look appealing to the public with his hair shaved to the sides… but that wasn’t him. After David was disowned, he promised himself to be nothing like them. With that being said, he changed his appearance. He remained buff but grew a mullet; most of his acquaintances questioned him on how he’ll attack the ladies. To his luck, he could still pull off the mullet with the ladies.

**September 14, 2016 - 8:02 AM**

“Mr. King!”

Loud continuous knocks were hit on King’s door. ' _Bloody git is worse than an alarm clock. It’s eight in the morning.'_ David growled as he swiftly put on his t-shirt and sweatpants. He jogged to the door and immediately opened it hoping the landlord would shut the hell up. He saw a scrawny man in retro clothes accompanied by Satan himself.

“Were ya trying to wake everyone in the bloody building, mate?” The scrapper yawned covering his mouth. His landlord deadpans but swiftly recovers to his charming smile. He always

“Always with the jokes, Mr. King.” the landlord muffled with a hint of sarcasm, he shifts the conversation by introducing the male next to him. “This fellow here is your new flatmate.”

“H-Hi, Mr. King. I am Dwight Fairfield.” Dwight smiled nervously as he struck his hand out to greet David but caused his luggage to almost fall on the ground. “O-Oh dear!”

Before the luggage touched the ground however, David’s quick reflexes made him catch the luggage by the handle. He then gestured the handle to Dwight, who took hold of his belongings. “Nice to meet you, mate. I am David King.”

“T-Thank you!” Dwight nervously responded looking down at his shoes.‘ _The lad doesn’t sound like he’s from around ‘ere. His accent sounds way too foreign.’_

“You’re not from around ‘ere… are ya?” King asked, brushing off his thoughts.

His new flatmate rubbed the back of his neck as he explained. “No, I am from the United States. I just decided to settle in the UK for a couple of months.” The landlord grinned watching the two chat. “Now you will be able to pay for the late rent fees, correct?” He blurted out. David slapped on his best fake smile and dragged Dwight by the wrist inside. “Come in, for now, lad!” King forces out as he slowly shut the door.

“W-Wait..” The landlord’s voice distorted as David shut the door completely.

“Thank you, Mr. Visconti!” Dwight shouts, hoping the landlord could hear him.


	2. A New Beginning

**September 13, 2016 - 11:36 PM(Philadelphia International Airport, Philadelphia, Pennsylvania)**

“Ladies and gentlemen, welcome aboard to American Airlines flight 25 76 bound for Boston, Massachusetts.” The PA announced explaining the lengthy pre-flight safety speech to those aboard on the plane. 

Dwight’s slender fingers rubbed onto his one-way ticket to Manchester. He had so many questions but felt too anxious to ask the flight attendant again if he was on the right plane. It’s not that it’s his first flight. Heck, he’s been on a plane plenty of times whenever his parents booked flights around the country. Unlike other flights, Dwight has never been outside of the United States or by himself.

_‘Am I still dreaming?’_

His wacky plan was now coming into action. It took a month for it to be possible to be quite honest. The gist of his plan was to run away from his parents. Dwight loves his parents, and he is sure they do too. Everyone in his neighborhood could tell because his parents are too overprotective.

At a young age, Dwight has dealt with moderate persistent asthma. Ever since then, his parents put their utmost attention towards him. He didn't mind the attention as a kid at first until he reached his teenage years.

_‘Sweetheart! But aren’t you a bit too young to learn how to drive? You’re only eighteen!’_

_‘What if you get an asthma attack at that party? God heaven forbid that... you're not going.’_

_’You shouldn’t be alone in some stranger's house!’_

Throughout his high school years, Dwight was an easy target for bullies. Especially sophomore year when Crash Maxwell would threaten to call him "mommy's boy" in front of the class if he didn't give up his English homework. Even if he gave up his homework, he'd take a beating in the school restrooms. The latter would arrive home with bruises and swollen cheeks. Instead of doing his homework, Dwight prepped his backpack with extra inhalers to survive the next school day. As much as his parents filed so many complaints about this, the school did nothing. So his remaining years of high school, including two years of college, were completed online. Even at age twenty-one, his parents continued to persist their little boy.

Dwight planned to flee to another country to live independently. His first option was Canada, but he had relatives up there and didn't want to end up in America. On the other hand, his other option was the UK. He was not going to live in Australia or New Zealand, where huge spiders are.

The United Kingdom left a good impression on him after reading about through his online textbooks. He searched for ways to reside there for at least a short period, so finding a roommate was his mission. Dwight learned that a roommate, in terms of the UK, is better known as a flatmate. After spending hours of searching for a stable and comforting price as a flatmate, he ran into an advertisement.

The said advertisement was looking for a position as a flatmate located in Manchester. Dwight immediately got ahold of the number and dialed the landlord by the name of Ace Visconti. The man on the phone was pretty eccentric and gave Dwight a summary over the flat. To this, Dwight accepted and booked a flight to a new beginning.

"Once again, I repeat, we will arrive at Boston Logan International Airport in an hour. Please allow yourselves to feel comfortable, and thank you for flying American Airlines."

Dwight laid his head back on his seat, rethinking his stupid decision. “Here’s to being independent!” he whispered to himself.

**September 14, 2016 - 8:10 AM (Northern Quarter, Manchester, England)**

“Thank you, Mr. Visconti!” Dwight shouts, hoping the landlord heard him. He stopped his tracks as he gazed at his new home. The living room was fairly small, or at least that’s how it appears to be since the place is messy. Empty bottles of ale were on the coffee table. Crumbs were scattered all over the dark green futon. There were very little decorations on the walls. The apartment itself seemed so vacant but it still managed to look cute. Though it wasn’t much, Dwight felt thrilled about his new home.

“Finally the bobbin’ landlord is gone.” David let out a sigh as continued to poke his eye on the peek-hole. Dwight’s eyes couldn’t help but observe his new flatmate as he turned to him. He was wearing a t-shirt and gray sweatpants. His t-shirt fit him perfectly, accentuating his perfect biceps. David ran a hand through his mullet. ' _Was he a fighter or something, right?'_

There was an awkward silence between the two. “Y—You have a nice home, Mr. King!” Dwight commented, trying to break the tension between them.

“Thank you... I guess.” David trailed off, hoping to find the right words to explain his situation to Dwight. “Look, mate, I don’t know how to put this. I know ya mean well but I—“

Dwight was warned by Mr. Visconti that David was not looking for a flatmate. He knew exactly what to do. Before his new flatmate could finish, Dwight immediately pulled out a thick envelope from his back pocket. “Please, take this.” He handed the envelope to David. “It’s the three months payment plus the late fee for Mr. Visconti... I-I just plan to stay here for three months. I also have no where else to go. So, please, accept this.”

David listened to Dwight, pulling out the currency from the envelope. In most cases, King would’ve kick the lad out of his apartment not caring if the landlord would bite his arse. Yet, he knew too well how hard it was to find a place to stay at. _‘The lad came from afar and paid off my dues... I can’t say no to him.’_

“Well, if yer mad fer it.. I suggest ya stay then,” David replied as he was convinced to let Dwight stay in his flat. Dwight’s face lightened up to hear him say those words.

“Oh no! I am not mad. I am very happy to stay, Mr. King!” the foreigner assured David, shaking both his hands. To this, the scrapper let out a small laugh while Dwight followed with a confused chuckle.

“Oi, mate. ‘Yer mad fer it’ is slang for excited for somethin’ in Mancuncian. Not that you’re mad.” He explained as Dwight’s lips formed an ‘O’ realizing what he meant.

“Now I understand, Mr. King! I guess I have a lot to learn.”

“Yeah, ye do. But let’s drop the formalities, ey?” David suggested while placing the envelope on the coffee table. He struck out his large hand. “Call me David.”

“Call me Dwight!”

“Of course, Dwight. Please excuse the mess round ‘ere. Place isn’t used to anyone else but me.” the brute said, a small smile on his face when Dwight’s hands excitedly latched onto his hand.

From then on, Dwight felt like this wasn’t the stupidest decision he’s ever made.


	3. Ironman, Spiderman, and The Mettle of Man

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> I am so sorry I am taking forever to upload the chapters! I am kind of a perfectionist and want to make sure you all enjoy reading this with the least mistakes possible. I feel like my writing is terrible lol! Once again, English is not my first language so I thank you all for being patient. :)

**September 14, 2016 - 10:45 AM (Ikea, Manchester, England)**

It wasn't normal that David was out shopping-- _dinnerware shopping--_ during his time off from work, but what could he say?

It most definitely wasn't his fault that he's been living by himself using half-cut water bottles as glassware. The only thing in his, no, their kitchen was expired food, and David would be too embarrassed to offer such breakfast to his new flatmate. So, David and Dwight decided to go to Ikea to purchase what they needed back in their flat.

"Wow! This Ikea is much larger than the Ikea back at home!" Dwight let out a gasp, as he walked inside the store with his flatmate.

As for David, he felt weird since it's been a long time since he has gone to an actual store, not the liquor store. King laughed, trying to seem casual when he was a little embarrassed. "I... almost forgot how huge Ikea is. I should probably pull out Google maps in case we get lost."

Dwight agreed, pursing his lips as he looked at their list they jotted down back at home. "We need to get: glassware, a bed, and-- oh my gosh!" The foreigner sped with the shopping cart to a shelf, his flatmate following behind. "David, look at these two glasses!" He picked up both glasses in separate hands. One had a Spiderman design on it, while the other was Ironman. 

"This is classic Marvel Comics glassware! They're on the as-is shelf," Dwight said, holding the glass up to the brute's face.

"Yeah?" David replied nonchalantly. 

"... They're on the as-is shelf." 

"Yeah, I heard ye the first time, mate," the scrapper responded. "If you want, we can buy it." Dwight frowned, groggily placing one of the glasses back on the shelf. "No, nevermind."

"What? Ya don't want 'em?"

"You said, 'if I want.' You probably don't like them."

"Oi, who said I didn't like them?" David swiped the Ironman glass from Dwight's hand and placed it in on the shopping cart. "I call the Ironman glass. He's much more mint than Spiderman." 

Dwight's lips flashed a smile, "Then let's get them, okay?" he grabbed the Spiderman glass and arranged it next to David's. 

"Ya know, mate. Ya remind me of a puppy."

"What do you mean?"

"Well, first, you're very obedient," David continued, "second, ya get excited over the littlest things like these glasses we're buying. Works for me though, I was thinkin' of getting a pet, anyway."

"Hey!" Dwight giggled, nudging the larger man as he too let out a small laugh. At first, Dwight felt so intimidated by him when he entered the flat. His body physique made him seem so big and scary. When in reality, his flatmate is friendly and witty. Especially, his smile, it's attractive. Dwight notices how his eyes crinkle, every time he does. _'_ _I guess he's a great example of not judging someone by their cover.'_

"We should probably go up to the other floor to order you a bed," King suggested. "Luckily, I know someone that can get us a discount." The two made their way up to the mattress section until an Ikea employee approached them. "Hello, there! Can I interest a lovely couple like you two to any beds here?"

"O-Oh, no! We're not--" Dwight chuckled nervously, "w-we're not a couple, miss." His flatmate nodded at his response.

"Oh! My apologies!" she exclaimed. "Could I help you two with anything?"

"Actually," David spoke up, "Is there an Ashley Williams working today?" 

"Yes, he's right over there." she turned and pointed to her right. 

"Thank you for yer assistance!" David grinned, while the Ikea employee hummed. 

"Follow me, mate," the brute ordered as Dwight followed him. The two walked up a man around his 50's who was flirting with a young woman. The man noticed the two and dropped the conversation with the woman.

"See you later, hot stuff!" he said, sweetly winking at her. "See David! I told you I can still rock with the ladies." 

King rolled his eyes. "I guess the corset did work," the scrapper pulled Ash into a hug while receiving a small kick from his friend. "Ash, I want you to meet my new flatmate, Dwight. Dwight, this is Ash, or better known 'ere in Manchester's alleyways as the Mettle of Man." David added, pulling away from the hug.

Dwight shook Ash's right hand. "Nice to meet you, Ash!"

"You... don't sound like a Brit. Where are you from, Dwight?" Ash questioned, adjusting his prosthetic hand.

"I am from Philadelphia, Pennsylvania!"

"Really? I am from Elk Grove, Michigan. Moved in the UK a few years back, been here ever since. Got this baby as a souvenir." Ash wiggled his fingers on his severed hand. "But, uh, I am sure you guys didn't stop by to say hi. What can I do for you two?"

"Do you have any beds we can cadge?" David asked. 

Ash bit his lips, looking around behind him. "Yeah, I do. Follow me!" he whisper-yelled. The flatmates tagged along with Ash to the corner of the store. "This doesn't cost much," Ash starts, patting the box. "That is if Dwight's alright with it." 

"A bed's a bed for me!" Dwight shrugged, "as long as I don't sleep on the floor!" 

"Are ye sure, mate?" David said, pointing to the box. "I know we want to save money, but I also want you to be comfortable." Dwight hummed.

"I'll be okay!"

"Alright then!" Ash clapped his hands, "This mattress should arrive tomorrow. Easy to carry since it comes in a box so, I wouldn't worry too much about it. Make sure you guys fill out that customer survey when you leave so I can get a basket of goodies!"

Dwight and David nodded and bid their goodbyes as they made their way to the checkout center. "Oh! We forgot about the carpets." Dwight groaned sighing in defeat. King huffed, "Ehh, we can get those, later on, mate. Visiting this store is like going to an amusement park."

"Yeah, no kidding." At that moment, Dwight's stomach grumbled. David's eyes shot themselves at Dwight's stomach. The foreigner bashfully placed his hands on his belly, expecting that would help quiet it down. 

"When's the last time you ate?" the scrapper asked, tilting his head to the side.

_'The last time I ate was back in Pennsylvania. It's kind of expensive to eat out since I have to save money.'_

"B-Back at London's airport, but I am okay!" Dwight lied, looking away from David.

"Mhm. Let's go eat breakfast, my treat. Come on!" David blurted out, clutching Dwight's hand and placing it on the handle. "Just in case ya run away from skippin' breakfast," he smirked. 

As they commenced to stroll their way to Ikea's restaurant, Dwight felt his cheeks burn to see David's large hand secure his on the shopping cart's handle. 


	4. Shepherd's Pie

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> I am so sorry I love cheesy Kingfield stories :) Please enjoy!

**September 14, 2016 - 12:54 PM - (Northern Quarter, Manchester, England)**

The only time Dwight has ever encountered perfect looking bodies was in movies like Fast in the Furious or Twilight.

After their trip to Ikea, the brute had to leave soon for work when arriving at their flat. Dwight's flatmate scurried to the bathroom to shower, leaving the foreigner by himself. Not knowing what else to do, Dwight began to arrange his messy clothes by folding them properly; since he left Pennsylvania in such a hurry. He fished out his earbuds and popped them in his ears as it tuned 'Side to Side' by Ariana Grande. Music has always allowed him to focus on whatever he's doing, whether it was chores or homework.

Dwight, being too entertained by music, felt a light tap on his shoulder and turned to see who it was. He sensed his mouth agape as his eyes stared before him. David was wearing nothing but a towel around his waist. His rosy-peach skin shimmered with small droplets of water pouring down his toned abs. Small bruises were impressed on his chest. The song itself wasn’t helping the situation either. The foreigner wanted nothing more than to pull out his emergency inhaler.

"Lad... Are you okay?" King asked, knitting his brows as he waved his hand across Dwight's face.

"S-Sorry, I l-lost my train of thought," Dwight nervously muttered, taking an earbud off from his ear. He tried to keep his eyes from shifting to David's body by looking at the other's face.

King quickly caught on why his flatmate was nervous. The larger male scoffed. "You've neva seen a nude body before? 'Sides there's nothin' to worry about, we're both men."

  
  
Feeling shy at the sudden question caused Dwight’s lungs to tighten, it wasn’t an asthma attack. "Y-You're right! Silly me. I am still sorry for staring," Dwight mumbled, staring down at his folded clothes, avoiding David.

"You're fine, mate," the scrapper started, "I just wanted to let you know that I wrote the flat's address on a napkin. In case you want to go on out and explore Manchester."

Dwight hummed in response as the brute walked away to his room. The foreigner's hands touched his cheeks. They were as warm as an oven. He returned to folding his clothes, trying to brush off what just happened.

**September 14, 2016 - 2:54 PM (Aldi, Manchester, England)**

According to Dwight's grandmother, a way to someone's heart is through their stomach.

At first, Dwight didn't understand what she meant. Until one day, he broke his mother's favorite vase while playing Just Dance. Mrs. Fairfield was very raged at him when she found out. She accepted no apology and gave him the cold shoulder. Seven-year-old Dwight felt ashamed and took his grandmother's advice. One early morning, he got up and dashed to the kitchen to make her something special for breakfast. The boy used his Star Wars stool to reach the counter for the peanut butter and jelly. He grabbed two slices of bread and carefully took out a butter knife to spread the ingredients on each slice. Before he could take the plate up to her room, he tore a flower from their front yard and adjusted her breakfast to his perfection. This breakfast-in-bed allowed his mother to forgive him with a sweet smile.

Now, he's applying his grandmother's advice again to David's situation. Dwight's shopping cart, or shopping trolley, squeaked around the aisles as he was looking for the potatoes. He decided to make Shepherd's pie for the brute since it's a common English dish. However, his trip was pretty long, even though Dwight knew the ingredients he needed. Also, the store was familiar to him since there's Aldi's back in America.

His mind would reminisce about the image of his topless flatmate. Dwight wasn't gay or anything, he is as straight as a pencil. He had a couple of internet girlfriends here and there when he played his PS4. But David, he's a different story. The foreigner doesn't understand why someone like David would cause his body to feel like jelly. He's a guy! Not a girl.

"Attractive people can leave someone stunned," Dwight whispered to himself, collecting a bag of potatoes. "He probably has a lot of girls after him, maybe even guys."

With this, Dwight pushed his shopping cart to the checkout line and waited.

**September 14, 2016 - 5:40 PM (Northern Quarter, Manchester, England)**  
  


Dwight lifted the simmering saute pan and covered the baking dish with the ground beef and vegetables. He pressed the turner onto the layer to even it out. The foreigner raced to his bowl of mashed potatoes and coated the previous layer. Adjusting the last of the dish, he placed the meal inside the oven and then set a timer for thirty minutes.

The foreigner fished out his inhaler and took a few puffs. His lungs felt relief as weren't as heavy when cooking. Dwight's body slowly planted on the ground, knees to his chest. Every time he takes out his inhaler, he feels weak since it's somewhat of his crutch for him to live. It reminded him of the times where his PE teachers would tell him to step out of physical activities because he was too frail. His parents would make things worse, by doing things for him like blowing on his food because of his condition.

The only person who'd treat him like a young adult is his grandmother. She was the one who taught him how to cook delicious meals, how to sew, and how to do many other things. Without her, he wouldn't be able to remember his worthiness despite his asthma.

Dwight's lips formed a smile while getting up from the ground. He snatched a napkin and pen from the table as he wrote down a small message.

_'I am worthy of being independent!'_

**September 14, 2016 - 11:23 PM (Northern Quarter, Manchester, England)**

David tiredly walked up the stairs to his flat. Today was a pretty uneventful day for the brute as he worked more like a stereotypical tough guy in the background to make his boss look more intimidating. Uncle Brass made a compromise with some underground mob boss. Rare the case where things get intense since Brass is a likable lad. David would do anything for his boss's safety regardless of how stupid the situation is.

It's one of the things he liked about his new life without riches. People he shares friendships with are genuine, unlike the ones he had when he lived with his parents. His unique life gave him a new formation, and that's to be humble.

King reached his flat and opened the door with his jingling keys. As he entered his home, he noticed the dining room's light was dim. He closed the door behind him as he approached the table. There he found a napkin and dish alongside his Ironman glass.

"I hope you can forgive me for staring at you. I made you Shepherd's pie to make up for my actions. Please eat well," David read from the napkin on the table. He looked around the place and saw a small figure on his futon. Walking up to his sleepy (weirdly positioned) flatmate, David lowered his head.

"Thank you, Dwight. Ya didn't do anythin’ wrong, but I guess I'll forgive you if that makes you feel sound," the brute whispered as he ruffled the other's hair. Without giving it much thought, David gently tore Dwight's glasses from his face and slipped off his shoes. The scrapper adjusted the foreigner's body on the futon and went to his room to get his bed cover. Quietly, King hovered his bed cover on top of Dwight.

"Sweet dreams, lad," the scrapper squeaked, walking back to his meal.


	5. The Shake

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> I had to post for Kingfield's 3rd Anniversary! 
> 
> If you haven't yet already you should check out my Kingfield one shot. It's a high school au where David and Dwight take Prenatal Education and are paired up, as a couple, to become great parents.
> 
> Thank you so much for reading!

**September 15, 2016 - 9:36 AM (Northern Quarter, Manchester, England)**

Kate trotted upstairs to her apartment, carrying a carton of orange juice and a box of pain relievers. Her best friend, Jeff Johansen, is sick with a cold. It wasn't a big deal actually, but Jeff was such a drama queen. That's what Kate Denson has learned after living with him for a couple of months. The two best friends live and work together in Manchester. Like yin and yang, they strangely balance each other out despite their differences. She's the clean freak, and Jeff's the couch potato, but their love for music always brings them together. 

On her way to her apartment, she heard loud guitar noises coming from her home. "Please don't tell me he is practicing at this time of the day," Kate groaned to herself, unlocking the door. 

She found Jeff strumming to the electric guitar on the loudspeaker. The blonde woman shook her head while hooking her blue hike jacket on the coat. "Jeffery Johansen! What did we talk about playing the guitar on the speakers? Save it for Jake's!"

"But I want to play," Jeff whined in a gruff sick voice. "I went across to Claudette's and said she didn't mind. I even asked David, and he was okay with it--" At that moment, loud thuds from below echoed on their floor. Kate shot her best friend a death stare while giving him a pill from the box.

"Okay, so? I forgot to ask him. The guy doesn't even own the place for crying out loud," The long-haired man spat, annoyedly disconnecting the chord from his instrument. Kate sighed as she opened the cupboard to get a glass.

"Yeah, he isn't. The problem is if there are too many complaints about us, we're out in the streets," the blonde woman explained, pouring the juice in the glass then handing the glass to her best friend. "Mind you, that Ace doesn't like David, so we're lucky."

"You're right," Jeff agreed, popping the pill into his mouth. "Guess you should heat the peach cobbler for him, so he'll be easy on us." Kate hummed in response, hurriedly taking the peach cobbler from the fridge and tucking it in the oven.

**September 15, 2016 - 9:47 AM**

"You see, mate," David huskily said, "This is why I neva invest in an alarm clock. Kate and her Tarzan looking friend always wake me up. They are dead mingin'."

The scrapper hopped off the chair and set the broom near the wall. "I reckon they'll be 'ere with some dessert for me to keep my mouth shut and not complain about them to the pesky landlord." 

"Are they musicians or something?" Dwight asked, taking a spoonful of cereal in his mouth. The brute nodded in response. "Kate is an aspirin' singer from America, I think. Her friend James, or whateva, is the guitarist that accompanies the lass to her shows. They perform at Jake's Jazz Lounge."

"It seems like you're close to them," the foreigner commented, observing his flatmate prepare a protein shake, from scratch, using the blender. He got a little jar from the cupboards that were full of red small squared packets. David shook his head as he teared the small protein slips into his mixture, "Nah, just kno' 'em for keepin' my mouth shut."

Dwight chuckled, sipping the last of the milk from his bowl. He felt small droplets fall onto the collar of his shirt. "Ah, shoot!" The smaller whispered to himself while placing his dirty dish in the sink. "Oi, I also want to thank you for yesterday. Shepherd's pie was delicious!"

There was that same sensation again when David was shirtless. "Y-You're welcome!" Dwight nervously laughed. 

At that moment, there was a knock in the door. Dwight volunteered to open the door. "Good morning, we're here to deliver the Nectar mattress to Mr. King." David came from behind Dwight. "Right, 'ere!" King exclaimed as the delivery man handed him the clipboard to give his signature and left. "I got it!" Dwight hollered, he heard a small okay from the brute as he walked back to the kitchen.

The foreigner dropped down to his knees to pick up the boxed mattress, but to his surprise, it was difficult. "You need help there, lad?" his flatmate asked, watching him struggle. Feeling embarrassed, he let his bottom hit the ground in defeat. "Yes, please."

David quickly put his homemade shake in the fridge and ran to Dwight. "We should set it up, lad. 'S not that 'eavy," the scrapper suggested, carrying the box like it was nothing. The smaller let out a sigh, "Okay, then!" He pressed his hand on the door to close it, at least that's what Dwight thought.

**September 15, 2016 - 10:04 AM**

Kate lightly knocked on the door using her left hand. No response. She knocked, again, this time, causing David King's door to spring open. The blonde woman looked around outside before stepping inside the flat. 

"Hey, David, are you home?" She asked, planting the peach cobbler on the table. _'Maybe he's showering?'_ Her eyes wandered around the place and saw the small red pockets on the kitchen's counter. Kate's hands covered her mouth in shock, "A-Are those condoms?" she whispered to herself.

Her ears heard a faint voice coming from a room. "Ah! It hurts... David push more," the voice cried. Kate stood there, struck with disbelief. It was a male voice, for sure. _'Maybe I am in the wrong apartment!'_

"I am trying to, lad, I'll shove it 'arder this time," another voice croaked. _'It's David! Oh my gosh, he's gay?'_ The blonde woman built the courage to barge in there. She, confidently, walked to the door and opened it. Two pairs of eyes shot towards her. It was David and some random guy moving the furniture.

"Oi, eva 'eard of knockin', lass?"


End file.
